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Better With Brandon - Part 2

I honestly thought nothing would happen again between me and Brandon after that crazy fuck on the couch. When it was over and our skin cooled down, we put on our clothes and went back to watching the game. He didn’t say anything about it and neither did I.

By the next morning, it almost felt like it had never really happened. It was hazy and remote, like a strange, distant dream. I chalked the whole thing up to some kind of weird moment that comes out of the blue—one of those weird flashes of pheromones and chemistry that ignites in an instant and burns out just as fast.

But less than 24 hours later, Brandon came up from behind as I was bent over unloading the dishwasher. He put his hands on my hips and started pressing his crotch into my backside.

“Mmmm,” he murmured.

He leaned down and laid his chest across my back.

“Sorry, but it looked so good,” he whispered into my neck. “I had to touch. And feel. Maybe we should repeat what we did yesterday.”

I don’t know what I said in response. Probably none of the things a wiser man would have said. Because within minutes, Brandon had my pants at my ankles and he was dragging his cock back and forth between my cheeks. His flared cockhead scraped my hole. Then two quick pumps of Ivory Liquid from the dispenser on the counter and he was inside me.

It was quicker and easier this time. Smooth, like it was practiced and natural. It’s crazy to say that, because I was still wigged out by the reality of bending over for my son. But he was a carefree jock who didn’t stop to think about any of that. He just fucked and kissed and went on with his life. And because it felt good—really good, despite the whole thing being so unexpected—I went on with it too.

After that it became something very regular, almost something unremarkable that we’d do—without either of us really talking about it. We just carried on with our normal lives. Me, the middle aged single dad, working 9-5 and offering his newly adult son a place for the summer. And Brandon, the fresh grad working full-time for the first time and crashing with me until he saved enough for his own place. That banal dynamic persisted.

But then there would be a change in the lighting, or a pause in the show we were watching, and I’d catch Brandon’s eyes on me. They’d have this look, deep and romantic. And just like that we’d start kissing. And the kissing would lead to fucking, which would lead us back to kissing…. It was a tight circle of activity and it could spiral for quite a while.

I should be clear that “us fucking” meant Brandon fucking me.

I did try to go after him one time. We were naked and rolling around, and I grabbed him by the hips, pulling his buns to my crotch and tapping my cock against his hole.

He swatted my hand away.

“Sorry,” I said to him. “I thought we might switch it up this time.”

“Yeah,” he said, grabbing my wrists and then flipping me over onto my back. He poked his cock between my thighs. “But this is working just fine as it is. Isn’t it, Dad?”

Brandon said it in a steady, certain voice.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” I replied.

“Good.”

Brandon pulled my legs up onto his chest and pressed his fingers to my pucker, testing. Then he spit on his dick and pushed it in.

“Because I think this is great.”

“Yeah, me too,” I agreed.

It wasn’t a lie. I hadn’t felt like this in years.

***

I first thought the change between us was just sex, but of course there was more to it than that. We fucked regularly, and we kissed throughout it all. Deeply. Hungrily. Tenderly. That combo couldn’t help but change things.

First the kissing and touching spilled over into everyday life. It became routine for Brandon to grab me by the hip, or pat my behind, or give me a long, slow kiss—all in the middle of the day, disconnected from sex and for no reason at all. These actions were no longer reserved for foreplay; they had become everyday affection.

I have to say, I enjoyed it. I hadn’t done much dating since Brandon’s mother and I split, and it felt good to have someone paying that kind of attention to me. Someone noticing when I looked good in a shirt and encouraging me to change into a better one if I didn’t.

“The black shirt you wore yesterday looked much better on you,” he might remark. I’d go check in the bedroom mirror and realize Brandon was right.

We started hanging out together, and not only around the house.

“Where should we go this weekend?” I’d ask. “I can make plans, get us some reservations.”

Brandon always had ideas, and I enjoyed executing on them.

And sometimes we’d hang out with others. I liked how comfortable everyone was around Brandon. They had first met him as child, but everyone spoke to him differently now. They recognized him as an adult in his own right.

“Brandon, can the two of you come help with the fundraiser on the 5th? Starts early.”

“No problem,” Brandon said with easy confidence. “I’ll make sure this one”—he jabbed me with his elbow—is up and moving by 6:00. You can count on us.”

I liked that he was grounded, mature. He was growing into a fine young man. And that helped lighten the load around the house. He wasn’t a wastrel son to support like some of my friends had. If anything, Brandon supported me as much as I supported him. We just did it in different ways.

I cooked most of the meals because I had more experience in the kitchen. And I loved that any time I asked him “What do you want for dinner?” Brandon always had a new challenge for me.

I shared my login with him and Brandon starting handling the bank account, the bill pays, my investments. He had been an Econ major, he was interested in finance, and he was working as a junior associate in a financial firm.

So it was complementary. Everything even and balanced in its own way.

I suppose it was about making things even when Brandon emptied half the drawers in the my bedroom and moved his stuff in. We had been sleeping together most nights, and it was awkward for him to continually run across the hall to his childhood room, with its narrow dresser and tiny single bed.

I was OK with my stuff being crammed into a smaller space; I didn’t mind the congestion. I was due to go through everything and thin stuff out anyway. I guess it was a welcome prompt.

But he did take my side of the bed. Without asking. The one I’d slept on for years and years.

Apparently it was his preferred side too.

After sex we’d pull apart and he’d roll me to one side and him to the other. He’d turn his head to kiss me again once before he fell asleep, snoring, on what had been my side of the bed.

But relationships entail compromise and they bring change, right? So this was to be expected.

“I mean, this is getting to be kind of like a relationship, right?” I asked Brandon one day.

I don’t know why I said it. I guess I was just feeling a little fragile in that moment.

“Like?” he asked. He put his arms around my waist and pulled me in close. “No. This is totally a relationship. The best there could be.”

I kissed him back, relieved. Then I wondered for an instant when my peace of mind had gotten so caught up in Brandon and what he thought.

“Why do you even worry, Dad?”

He placed a finger on my lips as if to shush me, then he leaned in, removing his finger at the last second and replacing it with his lips.

“Do you need some extra lovin’ tonight?” Brandon’s hands glided over the curve of my ass cheeks. “I can give you what you need.”

I nodded.

“Don’t worry, Dad,” Brandon said, catching my chin with his fingers. “I love you so much. You’ll always be my best boy.”

I nodded again.

His smile arched into a smirk.

“Now get back on that bed. On your back, legs up. Get nice and open for me.”

My son fucked me until I forgot my fears, until there was nothing left but my whimpering into the pillow.

***

And without my even intending it, Brandon and I were together. We didn’t directly tell anyone, but they could see it. And they saw it well enough to know how it all worked.

When the doorbell rang, Brandon asked, “You ready, Dad?”

I nodded and he stopped to straighten my collar.

“Don’t be nervous, you look great.”

Some of Brandon’s friends were coming to dinner, along with a few of mine. We usually saw everyone separately but the time had come to meld our friend groups.

During their arrivals, Brandon changed the music.

The first playlist had been mine—old jazz standards playing through the speakers while I finished the risotto. At some point Brandon wandered through the kitchen, kissed the side of my head, and quietly changed it to something more upbeat and modern.

Nobody objected. Including me.

The apartment filled gradually. Michael and his husband arrived first, carrying wine. Allison and Stu from Brandon’s office. Then Greg and David, friends I’d known for nearly twenty years.

At 46, I was the oldest person in the room. Most of the gray hair belonged to my friends. Most of the energy belonged to Brandon.

He stood near the island talking to Allison, one hand wrapped around a beer bottle, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Every few minutes someone interrupted him with a question.

Where were the extra glasses?

What was in these appetizers?

Had he seen the game last weekend?

People treated him as the host. Even though we both were. Even though it was my house. Even though most of the guests had known me for years.

None of that mattered.

“Need anything?” I asked Brandon as I carried plates into the dining room.

Brandon looked up.

“Yeah. Can you go open the wine that’s meant for dinner? It should breathe a little.”

I smiled. “Sure.”

He gave me a little pat and went back to laughing with my friends. Telling a story about something funny I’d done a few days ago.

Half an hour later everyone was seated around the table.

I had spent most of the afternoon cooking. Brandon grabbed a knife and carved the roast.

Conversation moved from work gossip to politics to vacation plans.

At one point Greg leaned back in his chair and pointed his wine glass toward us.

“Oh, that reminds me.”

He turned to Brandon.

“Are you guys around Labor Day weekend?”

Brandon swallowed the rest of Cabernet and gestured at me to refill his glass.

“Maybe. Why?”

“We rented a house up in Sonoma. Couple of days. Pool, wineries, all of that.”

“Sounds fun.”

“You guys should come.”

I waited for Greg to turn toward me and get my take.

He continued talking to Brandon.

“We’ve got plenty of room. It would be great to have the two of you there.”

Brandon smiled.

“Sounds like fun. I’ll check the calendar.”

I opened my mouth to chime in and then closed it. Brandon hadn’t committed us, and maybe he had a reason for that. I’d ask him later.

The conversation moved on.

Ten minutes later Brandon reached across the table and stole the last

roasted potato from my plate.

I gave him a look.

He shrugged.

“You weren’t eating it.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It absolutely is.”

Everyone laughed.

“OK, OK, I’m not going to fight you over a potato.”

“Because you know I’ll win.”

More laughter.

I blushed. I felt a twinge of embarrassment but also a strange kind of pride.

After dessert, everyone drifted back into the living room. Brandon opened another bottle of wine and topped people off.

I was carrying plates back into the kitchen when I overheard Greg speaking quietly with Brandon near the bookshelf.

“He’s different around you,” Greg was saying, “Lighter. Happier.”

“Yeah. The divorce was hard on him, even a couple of years later. But I think we’re figuring things out now. He’s finally moving on.”

“You’re good for him, Brandon.”

“We’re good for each other,” Brandon said, looking over Greg’s shoulder and giving me a grin. “That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

I blushed again. I felt warm and content.

“Well, it’s nice to see it,” Greg responded.

Later, after the guests had gone and I washed up the pots and pans, Brandon came up behind me and slipped his hands around my waist.

“You did great tonight, Dad. The food was excellent and everyone had a great time.”

“Thanks to you. You kept everyone happy and drunk and laughing.”

He spun me around to face him.

“Yeah. We both have our roles. And we play them well. I appreciate that.”

He leaned in to nuzzle my neck. I wondered when my son had gotten so wise and confident.

But I didn’t stop to wonder why I needed that. I simply knew it was true.

Brandon kissed a little trail down my neck and started opening buttons. I shivered.

“You can leave the dishes,” he whispered hoarsely. “They can wait. I can’t.”

I nodded and let him pull me across the room, where he sat on a kitchen chair and pulled me into his lap. He pulled the shirt from my body and kissed the exposed skin, tenderly and with purpose. I could feel him swell down below.

I kissed back while my clumsy fingers fumbled with his shirt buttons. Eventually he took over, got his shirt off, and pressed our bare torsos together.

“You don’t think I’m too old for you?” I whispered.

“Old man, you are just right.”

He winked and I slid off the chair, came to my knees, opened his pants, and took him into my mouth.

Brandon’s dick was hard, in the way that a 22 year old is instantly ready for anything. Even so, I felt it swell bigger in my mouth, testing the limits of my throat.

“Keep going, Dad. Stay with me. I know you can take it all.”

I nodded and gulped him down deeper, inhaling the musky odor of his pubes.

He let me suck him until he was leaking like an old pipe about to burst. Then he pulled me up to standing, dropped my pants, and pushed me down over the back of the chair.

I gripped with my hands as his tongue dipped and dived between my cheeks, finding its way around my rosebud. It opened easily to him now; he had made me into the kind of eager bottom I had never expected to be.

I sighed with relief when he sunk his shaft into me. This is how I felt most alive now: speared on my son’s young, steel-hard dick.

He began to move. Hands on my hips, controlling my body and the rate of entry. Plunging in and pushing against my prostate in a steady rhythm.

Suddenly I flashed on a moment from earlier in the night. It rose up over my bliss and forced me to speak.

“Brandon.”

“Mmmhmmm.”

He didn’t stop his thrusts.

“Why didn’t you say yes to Sonoma?”

“I wanted to make sure it’s what you wanted for Labor Day weekend too.”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s what I want too.”

“Good.”

His thrusts got harder.

“Kind of hot that Greg didn’t even ask me.”

“I noticed that.”

He fucked harder.

“They all know.”

“Know what?”

Brandon was panting. A bead of sweat rolled off his pec and splashed onto my back.

“That I belong to you.”

Brandon grunted and fucked hard, like an animal, I pushed back more.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it, Dad?”

“Yes,” I whimpered.

His dick had swollen to an impossible girth, fully plugging my hole.

“You got it, babe.”

He leaned his sweaty chest onto my back and bit the side of my neck as his cock started pulsing, spilling his load into me. It was so warm.

“You’re mine,” he whispered. “Always and forever.”

I thought back to that strange moment months ago when we simply watching the game and Brandon leaned in to plant on a kiss on me.

My boy knew just what I needed. And he made it happen.

I knew I would follow his lead. Always and forever.

END

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I waited without making a sound watching my wife's father bending over to put the dirty clothes on the washer showing me his pucker. My cock reacted inside my tights and started to grow. It's been a while since I fucked a man's ass, a little after meeting my wife, but seeing my father in law in that position, arching his back and imagining how good that muscle ass must feel brought those urges back.

We had a very good relationship and were always joking so I decided to have some fun at his expense. I took two fast steps and slapped his ass hard.

"You know, when I said "make yourself at home" I never thought of this" I said laughing.

"You son of a bitch! That hurts!" Ted protested while rubbing his ass trying to ease the pain. You could clearly see I had left a mark. The shape of my hand was now tattooed in bright red on his left butt cheek. "You've branded me like cattle, son!" He kept protesting.

"You got a very slappable ass Ted. Don't blame me." He was still on his knees rubbing his cheek, his head almost at the same height as my package, when he saw my boner through my running tights. He widened his eyes with surprise.

"You obviously liked what you saw", he pointed out signaling to my hard dick. I blushed a little but got cocky and responded.

"Well, I haven't been gettin any since Abby got pregnant and I came home with your fat ass on full display. A man has needs, Ted" I put my hands on my hips and thrusted a couple times, making my bonner more apparent.

Ted licked his lips and smiled maliciously. He stopped rubbing his ass and moved his hand to his crotch tugging his balls and dick. "If you are so desperate, I prefer you to ask me than to attack me by surprise".

I was so horny. Watching him on his knees, his cock almost as hard as mine. I could see the lust in his eyes. I knew we both wanted this.

"Ted, if you're offering, I'm definitely asking".

"What are you asking for?", he asked as he traced the outline of my dick with his fingers.

"I want you to suck my dick" I said panting with anticipation. My father in law grabbed the waistband of my tights and pulled them down. My cock jumped like a spring and stained his chin with precum. He opened his mouth, stuck his tongue out and said seductively. "What's the magic word, son?"

"Please, I need you to suck my cock!" I answered desperately.

He suddenly looked down and expertly deepthroated me. A jolt of pleasure went from the tip of my dick through my back to the base of my skull. My knees almost gave up and I had to hold onto the washer and my father in law's head. He took it as an incentive and kept my dick there for almost a minute while massaging its head with his throat muscles. When he came for air my dick was coated in spit and he started fisting it vigorously.

"Jesus Christ Ted! When did you learn to do that?"

"I was in the army, son. We needed to have a pastime. But it's been some time, so I might be a little rusty. Let me practice a little more." After saying that he started to suck my cock with eagerness and passion. It was the best blowjob I've ever had. He used one hand on my shaft when it wasn't inside his mouth while the other traveled through my body. He caressed my abs, my pecs, pinched my nipples, grabbed my ass when he wanted my dick to go deeper. I was in heaven. I almost shot every time he grabbed my balls while he circled the tip of my dick with his tongue.

We went for about twenty minutes when I told him to move so I could eat his ass. He got up and we passionately kissed. Our tongues fighting to push into each other's mouths, biting our lips. Our hands roaming through our bodies, exploring the strong muscles under our sweaty skin. Then, he leaned over the washer, spread his legs and pushed his ass out. My mouth was watering with the sight that had started all of this, but now merely inches from my face. I grabbed each cheek and separated them. My wife's father's asshole appeared before me, hairless, winking, inviting. First I gave it a little kiss, and then i passed my tongue from the taint up making him moan and shiver with pleasure. I kept licking some more to watch it react contracting with every pass of my tongue. I couldn't wait any more and I started making out with it.

My father in law started cursing and moving, pressing my head from the back to make my tongue go deeper. After a while, I started to use my fingers and the first one got in easily with all my saliba around that hole. Once I got two inside, I decided to have some fun and surprise him. I found his prostate quickly and started pressing on it. Ted grasped and threw his head up after the first push. He turned to look at me and found my devilish eyes looking at him.

"What was that?!" He asked.

"That was your prostate, old man. Has your doctor never given you a prostate exam?"

"Yes, but never like this." He said panting. I never stopped caressing his prostate, now using both fingers alternately, like they were running over it.

"Well, you need a better doctor then. You can come by the clinic and make an appointment anytime." I was a GP and in times like this my medical training came in handy. My father in law didn't respond. He was only moaning and huffing.

I decided it was time for the main course and got up slapping his ass a couple times. I grabbed my cock, which was the hardest I could remember, and aligned it with his entrance. I gave it a little wiggle and without a warning I introduced it halfway through. My father in law took a deep breath and clenched his fists. I didn't move until he relaxed a little and then I started to push slowly. In no time I felt my balls touching his and looked down to see my cock completely buried in his hole. I took the opportunity to enjoy the sensation of the warm embrace my cock was feeling. I started to take it out and, when only the tip was inside, I pushed balls deep again in one stroke. My father in law had to stand on tiptoe after that attack and I hugged him tenderly. I started to rock back and forth and he started moaning. I grabbed him by the hips and piston rapidly. Then I changed speed and went slowly while reaching for his cock. He was rock hard and leaking like a faucet. I grabbed it strongly and kept fucking him. He whimpered and I knew he was about to finish.

"Let's go somewhere more comfortable so I can watch your face as I fuck you." I said.

"Perfect, but first, let me finish something." He picked up my tights, put them in the washer and started the cycle. I laughed while following him to my bed.

I pushed him over my mattress and grabbed his ankles. I aimed my cock at his hole and put it all the way in with one move. It was so used to my cock that I didn't find any resistance this time. I started fucking again. This time I could see his face having the time of his life. I could see every time my cock head pressed on his prostate because he made the cutest pout. I bent down and kissed him again. I kissed his lips while he moaned into my mouth. I kissed his neck feeling his accelerated pulse under my tongue. I bit his nipples making him scream with pleasure. Then I grabbed his boner and started to jerk it off.

I could see in his face that he was about to finish so I thrusted my hips as fast as I could to try and finish together. He opened his eyes widely and his face flushed bright red. I kept jerking him and then a thick rope of cum flew from the tip of his dick across his face. Then seven more shots landed over his pecs and abs. While his ass clenched my dick with each shot, I got over the edge and with one final push, I shot deep inside my father in law, coating his rectum.